My Pain And Sadness Is More Sad And Painful Than Yours

Before the sheen, before the big production and before the bright lights called - this album, which strangely isn't an album, not in the purist sense. Multiple producers and styles permeate. But heck, given this the songs don't half shine through and it ain't half one of my favourite punk albums of the first half of the noughties.

The lyrics are sublime - every song is full of wit, sarcasm and spat out with the mentalist fury of a Geordie Frank Black at his most Pixiest. Classic lines, lines which will make you smile, lines which will make you wince and lines which will get you off your arse. I could quote a load here, but I won't - there are plenty there for you to choose your own and then have spare to share with the next door neighbour.

But the music, the music that drags the words screaming and kicking across the dance floor is just as good. Echoes of stabbing Big Black meet Pavement and The Pixies and shake hands with strange synths and loops. They also have short, angry, shotgun songs of early Husker Du, the grime and scowl of Mudhoney and the energy of clanging hardcore.

Angry and tender, schizophrenic and narky, original and classic, grungy and dense. This album doesn't meander so much as it wakes up, kicks a song out of bed, goes clubbing, pulls a new song, does the dirty, then throws in a threesome with two other dirty songs before return home to the wife and kiddies.

A rough diamond of an album, hard to classify - No - Nu Metal No-No's or mainstream indieisms - unique, angry and special.

McLusky were a band of geniuses. That is clearly evident from one listen to virtually any of their output. But what is also evident, even at this early stage in their mainstream career, is that they knew it. Their militant, dictatorial, swaggering self-righteousness is shouted about as loudly here as it ever was, especially on the stand out, idol-toppling monster of a track that is 'whiteliberalonwhiteliberalaction', as well as the vitriolic, defeatist/elitist rant 'Medium is the message' (which contains the rather good line "they're not exactly famous/their girlfriends never sit/they only got discovered cos their clothes don't fit"). Yes sir, McLusky were not a band to allow something as insignificant as being a completely unknown, shouty Welsh punk outfit hold them back. Regardless of whether the rest of the world had realised it yet, McLusky were the leaders of their own little rock revolution.

Technically, this album's differences from its descendants are clear. Limited production resources have a definite effect on the sound of the album. Tinny recording at times threatens to smother what would otherwise be mini masterpieces, such as the barely-a-minute-long, mind-splittingly good punk explosion in waiting 'Rice is Nice'. It's almost infuriating that this track didn't get a re-record once the band had a bit more backing and Steve Albini twiddling the knobs. But never mind, because for the most part, the tinny sound tames the noise just enough to give the songs a catchy pop feel to go with those catchy pop hooks.

This album is a rare thing. What you are witnessing as you listen to it is the sound of untapped genius. The sound of young upstarts in need of a little guidance, but in possession of a truly formidable talent. It's the audio equivalent of a small child behind the wheel of a juggernaut. McLusky can reach the accelerator, but they can't quite see over the dashboard. Not that that's a bad thing. Oh no. This album is fantastic. From the opening blasts of 'Joy' to the apocalyptic finale that is 'World Cup Drumming', the tracks are all diamonds. They just haven't been mined yet.